Madness

The enemy's assault on Numenas grew ever fiercer. The terrible visibility made it difficult for the Ultramarines to judge their numbers. Ventanus estimated that at least six to eight thousand enemies were currently attacking, most of them mortal troops.

The Word Bearers' mortal forces were completely different from Calth's auxilia. They resembled a horde of ignorant cultists and madmen, fanatical and fearless of death, even choosing it willingly.

Those enemies carrying bomb vests and melta bombs posed a grave threat to the Ultramarines' defensive line.

Even as they died, they continued howling about the blessings of the gods. They believed they were not dying, but entering the gods' divine realm to enjoy the rewards earned through their devotion.

These blindly faithful, ignorant religious forces had a tremendous effect on the morale of the Calth auxilia. If captured alive, prisoners would be sacrificed by those mad cultists to their dark gods in horrific ways.

Ventanus thought of many things. He could not understand what force or entity had overturned the Word Bearers' fanatical faith in the Emperor and cast those former zealots into an abyss of darkness.

They had betrayed the Ultramarines. This was a long-planned conspiracy, and there had to be even more horrifying betrayals to come.

The enemies charging from the torrential rain and thick fog never ceased. Driven by their leaders, these madmen who embraced death willingly recited their blasphemous truths as they stormed the trenches, barbed wire, and gates with the force of cannon fodder filling the sea.

The Mechanicum artillery had already poured out immense firepower. They targeted the densely packed crowds, and shells fell among them, tearing human bodies into countless fragments with shrapnel and shockwaves. Mangled remains were hurled into the sky, and the air was steeped in an ominous, unnatural atmosphere.

More than half the veterans of Numenas's 61st Company had fallen, but Sergeant Herlock was still alive. From behind cover, they used lasrifles and grenades to hold back the enemy.

Mortals against mortals, Astartes against Astartes.

Both sides tacitly adopted this soldier-against-soldier, commander-against-commander tactic. They had to preserve the Space Marines' condition and strength.

The presence of the Mechanicum greatly eased the shortage of firepower. After receiving fresh energy supplies and materiel, these heavily augmented Skitarii unleashed their weapons in a frenzy, using radiation and lasers to sweep away masses of enemies.

The Word Bearers' chanting grew louder. Their incantations seemed to possess a strange power, keeping the mortals' morale balanced on the edge between madness and reason.

They carried vast numbers of bomb vests, attacking every enemy with crazed abandon and detonating themselves once they drew close enough.

"Stop them on the bridge!"

The Skitarii and mortal snipers rapidly picked them off. When they exploded where they stood, they took large numbers of Word Bearers' mortal troops with them. The continuous tremors spread through the increasingly ruined palace.

"The enemy offensive is intensifying. They want to prepare the way for the Astartes assault!"

The Ultramarine beside Ventanus roared. He believed the time had come for the Ultramarines to enter the battle.

"Not yet, Sullus. If I were foolish enough to send men with you, you would only die meaninglessly in the tide of traitors!" Ventanus rejected Sullus's proposal, driving the Ultramarine into fury.

"I do not fear death. Ultramarines do not know fear!" Veins bulged across his face, and spittle flew from his mouth.

"I know you do not fear death. But I think you fear the madness the Word Bearers have shown, fear the primordial truth they speak of. The universe we knew is vanishing, and in its place is a logic unlike anything we have ever known." Ventanus's words struck deep into him. He realized his battle-brother was seeking death.

He had lost some of his faith and, in his terror, had chosen to rush toward death to end that wavering.

"Sullus, if we lose our faith and act with strength but without thought, our efficiency will plummet, and more people will die."

Sullus swallowed. Trembling slightly, he asked, "Captain, what if our primarch is already dead? What then?"

"Then we avenge him. We are the sons of vengeance."

The figures of the Word Bearers began to emerge from the dense fog. They were so tall that they stood out sharply among the fanatical cultists.

They deliberately used those frenzied mortals to shield themselves from the fortress's fire. Lasrifles lost all power after piercing through several bodies, while the mortal auxilia were forced to shift their attention to the cultists, giving the Word Bearers a chance to close the distance.

The Ultramarines joined the battle as well. Their boltguns thundered without pause, powerful heavy bolts tearing through the crowds and bursting them into crimson clouds of blood. The Mechanicum Skitarii brought out every weapon they had held in reserve, doing everything they could to withstand this assault.

Against combat of such intensity, even the deathless Word Bearers auxilia struggled to achieve results. Thousands of figures were blasted apart, leaving no intact piece of flesh to be found. Lasers and plasma, heavy artillery and bolts intertwined, and even the Word Bearers' Space Marines had no choice but to fall on the path of their charge.

Likewise, the Word Bearers' bombardment and precise bolter fire drove the Calth forces' death toll ever higher.

Even behind cover, no one was safe from the power of a Space Marine's bolts. Soldiers in trenches and bunkers were often torn apart along with their cover.

All the loyalists suffered through this grinding battle, enduring the casualties. Many soldiers were inexperienced recruits called up during the war. They had received no real training, only been taught how to fire a weapon before being thrown into such a brutal battle.

As long as they fired a single shot, their duty was fulfilled. Some wailed, some collapsed to the ground in terror, while others cried out the Emperor's name and charged the enemy with melta bombs clutched tightly in their hands.

Yet the Word Bearers had entered the fight in organized formations, and they vastly outnumbered the Ultramarines.

Some swifter Astartes wore jump packs and descended directly into the defensive positions in great leaping arcs.

They were too close. At nearly point-blank range, the mortals had no way to fight weapons made for war. The Astartes reacted far faster than mortals; the moment they landed, cruel chainswords and power swords were already harvesting lives.

The immense power of the chainswords allowed them to rip fully armed veterans apart from head to toe, cleaving them cleanly in two. The flying blood spray made their armor even redder and more monstrous.

The droning motors shattered many soldiers' nerves. They lost all reason and composure, only to die even faster on the battlefield.

The Skitarii opened fire. Their targeting systems locked onto the leaping Word Bearers, and micro-missiles and plasma blasts knocked them from the sky trailing black smoke.

The Iron Hands also continued to cover their own troops with heavy fire. These veterans from Isstvan faced the enemy with cold indifference, venting their fury through bolter fire.

"Bastards! Even Isstvan could not bury us. Are your heads ready?"

Ventanus took the lead. He and his adjutant reached the front line, their power boots stepping upon ground stained red by dead soldiers. Blood mixed with pulpified flesh, making the footing slick and sticky as it was washed into the ditches and flowed underground.

He lunged at a Word Bearer and, while the enemy hesitated, severed his arm with a power sword. At the same time, he fired a bolt round from his bolt pistol at point-blank range, punching completely through the traitor's armor.

His adjutant also intercepted another Word Bearer who tried to attack Ventanus. His power fist glowed with the light of a disruptive field. He stepped in, locked the arc of the enemy's power sword, and smashed his fist into its blade, damaging the weapon. Another blow burst the traitor's skull apart with a crackling impact.

The enemy still surged forward. Ventanus used precise bolter shots to strike them, muzzle flashes bursting across Word Bearers' helmets and throats as blood sprayed forth. One tenacious Word Bearer had not yet died, merely collapsing to his knees and struggling weakly.

Ventanus showed no mercy. He swung his power sword, using its disruptive field to behead the shameful traitor, then carried the blade downward and tore open half his body.

The strongest Word Bearer charged again. His armor bore even more horrifying patterns and symbols than the others, and countless vile, blasphemous incantations seemed to possess a power that stole the souls of those who witnessed them.

He wielded a massive two-handed chainsword. Its spinning monomolecular teeth held terrifying force as it came crashing down before Ventanus's visor, only to be firmly blocked by his power sword.

Ventanus felt a force like a giant hydraulic press bearing down on him. The servos of his power armor roared, but his lower legs were still forced to bend and warp. He violently knocked aside the tearing chainsword, then bent low and slashed in return. The two deadly weapons erupted with countless sparks.